


The Bet

by Malley



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair and Zev have a bromance, Alistair is a Chantry boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malley/pseuds/Malley
Summary: “You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets!” Zevran continued, making grand gestures with his hands for effect. “Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it - it would turn the eye of the Maker Himself!"Zevran claims he can seduce anyone and Alistair challenges him on it. To prove his seductive prowess, Zevran tells Alistair to select one of their companions for him to woo. Alistair, of course, bets there would be no way that Zevran could get Morrigan to fall for his charms. The Antivan Crow takes him up on his challenge. Based on the party banter between Zevran, Morrigan and Alistair. Rated T for dirty Zev jokes that make Alistair blush (because I love to tease my Chantry boy).





	The Bet

**THE BET**

_ Outskirts of the Frostback Mountains _

Crouched next to the boiling black cauldron on the fire, Alistair stirred the contents of the pot. The scent of the stew he was cooking for dinner swirled up and out of the pot and reached his nose. It smelled…well, it certainly didn’t smell amazing. It simply…smelled. But, in the middle of a Blight with constant travelling and minimal supplies, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to what was being whipped up for dinner. In fact, he even named this particular creation, planning on making it again since it didn’t require much in the area of ingredients, time or effort. “Blight Stew,” Alistair had said when asked what he would be making tonight on his turn to cook. “Because it’s grey, smells terrible and just might kill you. Like a Darkspawn!”

Footsteps crunching over some fallen branches on the ground alerted Alistair to the fact that he was likely going to have company. 

“Hello there, my new friend Alistair,” Alistair heard Zevran’s unmistakable accent behind him.

“New friend might be a bit of a stretch…” Alistair murmured to himself as he continued stirring.

The elven assassin inhaled deeply as he sat down on one of the logs they were using as impromptu seating after setting up camp outside of the Frostback Mountains a few hours ago.

“I do not know what it is you are cooking, Alistair,” Zevran said. “But, whatever it is, there is something about it that reminds me of home.”

Alistair glanced over his shoulder at Zevran with a frown. There was no tone of mocking or condescending smirk on his face. Zevran’s comment seemed genuine; Alistair just wasn’t sure if that comment was a compliment or an insult.

“You like the smell of those Antivan leather boots Elissa found in Haven, correct?” Alistair asked, referring to his fellow Grey Warden.

“Of course! They have such a strong smell that reminds me of my time in Antiva; it’s a sentimental smell, if you will. Very delightful.”

“Well, if you find the smell of those boots appealing, then I’m sure that this stew smells like a herd of Hallas that got stuck in a rainstorm after they ate a field of elfroot.”

Zevran let out a boisterous laugh. 

“You slay me, Alistair,” he said. “My friends in the Crows, they are always so serious, something about ‘murder for hire being serious business’ or something like that; they certainly do not have your sense of humor. I am looking forward to our time together, my new friend Alistair.”

“Thanks, I think,” Alistair replied. “But our friendship is contingent on one condition.”

“One condition? I admit that I am rather curious as to what you could possibly be requiring before considering friendship. I am intrigued; name your price.”

“Please stop flirting with Elissa. I...really,  _ really _ like her. Like, a lot.”

“You like her?” Zevran repeated his words and then gave a full and hearty laugh. “Oh, Alistair, I am so proud of you! You have excellent taste in women, my friend.”

Alistair’s cheeks had flushed a cherry red and they felt as hot as the flames heating up the pot he was cooking the stew in. 

“Ahem, yes, well,” the Warden cleared his throat. “Elissa and I are a couple now and I would appreciate if you did not flirt with her.”

Zevran gave Alistair a gracious bow.

“Of course, my friend, I will do as you wish,” he said. “I meant no offense, Alistair; it is just that, when I see a beautiful woman, I cannot help but shower her with attention and try to make her feel like the lovely lady she is.”

“And sweet-talking actually works?” Alistair asked. “I mean, not that I need to know, as I have Elissa now, but, you know-”

Zevran held a hand up to stop Alistair’s rambling, much to the latter’s relief.

“Do not worry, Alistair,” he said. “You were raised in a Chantry, no? I cannot believe that they would teach all of you young boys how to talk to women, despite it being a very important part of life.”

“Yeah, you could definitely say that. Thankfully, though, Elissa didn’t seem to mind the fact that I had no, erm, experience.”

“Speaking of experience-” Zevran began to say with a grin.

“Nope. Not having that discussion,” Alistair quickly interrupted, slapping his hands over his ears. “La la la-la-la-la!”

“You Fereldens are so finicky! Well, my friend, we will save that discussion for another time then, yes?”

“Yes please,” Alistair said in agreement before the Elven assassin could change his mind, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“How about we discuss other ways to make your dear lady smile and feel loved?”

Alistair opened his mouth to protest but stopped. He glanced over his shoulder at Zevran.

“Other ways?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“Come, join me,” Zevran said, patting a space on the log next to him for Alistair to sit.

After a moment of silently mulling it over, Alistair stood from where he had been crouched on the ground near the fire, dusting off from his armor some stray pieces of grass and clumps of dirt. He then joined Zevran on the log.

“Let me officially welcome you, Alistair, to the Arainai School of Wooing,” Zevran said.

Alistair cringed.  _ What did I just agree to?  _ He wondered to himself.

“My techniques are famous throughout Antiva and, in time, will be just as well-known in Ferelden too,” Zevran continued.

“Famous throughout Antiva? That’s an awful big claim,” Alistair said. 

The elf grinned.

“Well, you can make such a claim when you have such a big-”

“Do _ NOT  _ finish that sentence,” Alistair looked away, feeling his face flush once again.

“I was going to say ‘heart,’ Alistair, but, since you’ve brought it up…” Zevran chuckled as he found the Warden’s ears reddening. “Perhaps we will also save this particular lesson for a later time, yes?”

“Much,  _ much _ later.”

“All right, then, my good friend Alistair, let’s start at the very beginning. You should express your interest in the object of your affection, letting them know exactly how you feel.”

“I think we’ve passed this part already,” Alistair said. “I mean, I’m sure Elissa would appreciate hearing what a wonderful woman she is, so strong, brave, beautiful...oh, and deadly. That last part is kind of hot, actually.”

“Very good start!” Zevran said with a nod of approval. “I do believe that our lovely leader would certainly appreciate hearing those things, especially from you, Alistair. You have expressed a good combination of the very things that make her so very special to you, beauty, brains, skill and, as you say,  _ deadly _ , something that I, as an assassin, also do quite enjoy very much. Now that you know what you want to say, you need to say it.”

“That’s...the hard part.”

Alistair rose from the log and returned to the pot on the fire. He grabbed the stick he’d been stirring the stew with and swirled it around a few times.

“Yes, that is definitely the hard part,” Zevran said with a sigh. “But, at the same time, if it were easy, it would not be as fun or rewarding, would it?”

Alistair reflected on his first kiss with Elissa and a smile was instantly drawn to his lips. He’d been terrified out of his mind at the prospect of expressing his feelings toward Elissa and the possibility of being rebuffed only made his anxiety grow stronger. But, as Zevran said, when Elissa smiled and accepted his advances, his heart was happier than Wade when Elissa brought him some dragon scales for the first time.

Putting the stick down and aside again, Alistair turned to face the assassin.

“So, this whole ‘wooing’ and talking to Elissa thing,” he rubbed the nape of his neck. “How do you do it without looking or sounding like a bumbling idiot?”

“But that is part of your charm, Alistair!”

“Thanks, I think,” Alistair paused and frowned. “That  _ was  _ a compliment, right?”

“Absolutely!” Zevran popped up from the log and joined Alistair, slinging an arm over the Warden’s shoulders. “But, if it is something you’d like to learn, I am more than happy to assist you.”

“I...I...yes, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to learn. I mean, I would hope that things become more serious between Elissa and me and, when we get to that point, I would hate to...uh…”

“Have things be over before they even began?”

“Well, yes. That would be bad.”

“Indeed it would, my good friend, Alistair, indeed it would,” Zevran said with a nod of agreement and a sympathetic pat on the back.

“All right then, what do I need to do to learn how to not word-vomit on Elissa when we’re discussing non-Grey Warden related things?” Alistair asked.

“First and foremost, you need to  _ believe  _ in what you’re saying. Confidence can go a long way, my friend.”

“I’m doomed, then.”

“No, it is easy! It just takes some practice. Here, I will show you. I will attempt to woo one of our companions and show you that, as long as I have confidence and believe in my words, I am irresistible. Since your lovely Grey Warden Elissa is off the market, whom shall be the fortunate one to be on the receiving end of my affections?”

Alistair and Zevran looked over the camp at their companions. 

“Hmm, that is a good question,” Alistair scratched his chin in contemplation. “Let’s call everyone for dinner and then we can stew over the options while we eat stew.”

“Hmm, clever, Alistair,” Zevran said. “I see what you did there.”

The party camp assembled around the fire in preparation for the evening’s meal. Alistair distributed the stew to his companions and then took a seat on the log next to Elissa. She smiled at him when he sat down. A quick survey of the others, most of whom were focused on eating after their long day of travelling and thus occupied, Alistair leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek. He felt his cheeks burning again, something Elissa must have noticed, as she gave him a small chuckle.

_ Let’s see...which companion should Zevran attempt to woo for his demonstration? There’s Wynne, but she’s like my mother and I wouldn’t do that to her. Plus, Zevran would probably get far too much enjoyment out of it. Shale is a golem and would presumably crush Zevran,  _ Alistair mused.  _ The only sweet thing that Sten likes is dessert. Oghren...that would be quite comical, actually, but also *shudder* not something I’d ever want to see. Perhaps Leliana? No, that would be too easy. She is already a sweet, albeit, looney girl. That just leaves us with… _

A grin broke out on Alistair’s face as his eyes settled on his last companion.

“Should I be concerned?” Elissa leaned over and whispered to him.

“Concerned about what?” Alistair asked. 

“You’re staring at Morrigan and smiling.”

“Smiling? Am I smiling? I didn’t even realize I was smiling. Okay, no longer smiling. And...frown, go!”

Elissa chuckled as a flustered Alistair attempted to explain away his reason for smiling while looking at Morrigan. The witch had retrieved her stew and then retreated to her self-designated area of the camp to eat alone, as she had always preferred despite Elissa’s numerous invitations, instead of around the campfire with the rest of the companions. 

“Believe me, Elissa,” Alistair said, gesturing with his spoon. “There is nothing about that sneaky witch thief that would make me smile. Oh, except her leaving. That would be good.”

“Or when Kell left that ‘present’ in her bedroll?” Elissa replied.

Alistair laughed aloud.

“Yes, that was quite comical,” he said in agreement. “I’d actually almost forgotten about that, thanks for reminding me.”

He fished out some pieces of meat from his stew and beckoned Elissa’s Mabari over. Kell trotted over and accepted the meat with a happy bark and a “Good Boy!” from Alistair before trotting away again to enjoy his reward.

“Hey, Zevran,” Alistair said as he picked up his bowl of stew from where he had placed it on the ground to feed Kell. “I made my decision. And, I have to say, I’m betting that you won’t be able to succeed with this one.”

“Oh?” Zevran replied with an eyebrow raised. “If that is the case, I must admit that I am very eager to hear your selection, then.”

“Okay,  _ now  _ should I be concerned?” Elissa asked, watching the exchange with interest. 

“Uhh...no?” Alistair hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

He knew he wasn’t at all convincing when Elissa cocked a fiery red eyebrow at him.

“Why do I feel like the two of you are about to get in trouble?” she asked.

“Because trouble is quite fun, my dear Elissa,” Zevran said with a wink.

Elissa sighed.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

***

**Orzammar**

They had been running around the Dwarven city all day, essentially having become errand runners for Bhelen and Harrowmont’s followers in their leaders’ respective bids for the throne.

“I swear that if I have to do one more task for either one of those men, I will  _ not  _ be held responsible for my actions,” Elissa said with a groan as they made their way through the Commons for what was probably the third time that day. 

Alistair, walking at her side, chuckled in response. 

“Could you imagine the news the town criers would have to spread in the Diamond Quarter?” he asked. “News of the hour! Gorgeous Grey Warden feeds Harrowmont and Bhelen to darkspawn in the Deep Roads while laughing maniacally!”

“Hmmm...that’s not a bad idea,” Elissa replied. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“See? This is why I love you!” 

“You two are simply making me ill,” Morrigan added with a huff.

Alistair glanced behind him at their two additional companions before he grinned at Elissa.

“Two birds with one stone, eh?” he said. 

With a chuckle and an eye roll, Elissa nudged him in the side.

“Ah, young love,” Zevran said. “It warms the heart to see such a beautiful thing, does it not?”

“If you’re asking me, the answer is no,” Morrigan replied.

“You should be smiling at the sight, my sweet! Smiling would certainly suit you and enhance your beauty, if it were to be possible for you to be more beautiful, of course.”

“I will smile only when I have something to smile about.”

“Perhaps I could give you that reason to smile?” Zevran replied with his trademark grin.

Morrigan responded with a grunt of disgust and a glare.

“You may glare at me all you wish, my lovely Morrigan, but it will not deter me.”

The Antivan’s eyes flicked forward to Alistair, who glanced behind him over his shoulder at the elf and gave him a single nod. Elissa raised an eyebrow at her fellow Grey Warden, who gave her a shrug of feigned innocence.

“Actually, Morrigan, that glare of yours has got me thinking,” Zevran continued.

“Oh, this should be good,” Morrigan grumbled more to herself than Zevran, but did nothing to prevent herself from being overheard by her companions.

“Has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear?”

“Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?”

Alistair put a hand on Elissa’s arm to stop her. They both turned and watched the exchange between the elf and the apostate.

“In Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve,” Zevran said. “Men should worship you at your feet as you pass.”

The swamp witch folded her arms across her chest.

“They don’t find that incredibly annoying?” she asked in response.

“They are goddess receiving their subjects, just as you should be. Whatever would be annoying about that?”

“I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal.”

“But you deserve no less,” Zevran took a step forward toward Morrigan.

Alistair held his breath, uncertain as to whether or not the Antivan would be receiving a punch in the face, kick below the belt or a lightning bolt up the arse by stepping into the apostate’s personal space. Much to his surprise, Morrigan simply shifted her weight on her feet, her gaze still focused anywhere else but on the assassin.

“You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets!” Zevran continued, making grand gestures with his hands for effect. “Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it - it would turn the eye of the Maker Himself!"

Morrigan kept her head turned, but her eyes drifted over to Zevran. Her arms fell to her sides.

“Well, I suppose I…”

Alistair was admittedly stunned.  _ Wow. Zevran wasn’t kidding when he said he could seduce anyone! He’s even getting it to work on Morrigan!  _

“By the Maker!” Alistair exclaimed before he could stop himself. “You were right. You win. You definitely win, Zevran.”

Zevran turned and gave Alistair a low and dramatic bow.

“I think you owe me five silvers, yes?” he replied with a grin.

Morrigan huffed and crossed her arms across her chest again.

“I hate you all.”

“Elissa?” Alistair said, turning to face his fellow Grey Warden. “Can I have five silvers to pay Zevran?”

Elissa sighed and shook her head before turning on her heel and heading toward the marketplace.

“But Elissa!” Alistair called after her. “I owe him money for winning the bet!”


End file.
